Scars
by blackgem88
Summary: His skin is like a map of where his heart has been.And he can't hide the marks no matter how hard he tries.Every scar on his skin speaks to an even deeper scar scribbled along his heart.Rachel finds her way back to Noah and together they heal their hearts


**Title**:Scars

**Chapter**: 1/1

**Author**: Blackgem88

**Pairing**: Puck/Rachel

**Rating**: TSummary: Rachel and Puck find their way back to each other

**Spoilers**: Season 1 but slightly AU

So here it is, my first Puckleberry. It's unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. This was written in response to the Puckleberry drabble meme prompt to Natasha Bedingfield's I bruise easily. So, without further ado, here it is.

I watch him from across the room, my hands gripping my chair to keep myself in place. My eyes take in his form, his brusque demeanor, and the haunting look in his hazel eyes. He looks so broken. I want to run to him and wrap my arms around him, but I just can't. So, I grip the chair tighter as the overwhelming desire to take him into my arms threatens to overpower me. But, I just can't let myself. I'm scared to reach out only to be pushed aside. Scared that after all this time, he'll think I'm just like everyone else.

We are alone in the choir room and the silence is thick with unspoken words. The air is heavy with missed opportunities - times I could have reached out and fixed the tattered edges of the fabric that connects us. Times I was too hurt to understand what his actions meant. Times I was too blind to see what was right in front of me. Times I was too lost in a fantasy to see that what I really needed was somewhere else entirely.

If I could go back to that first Monday morning and change anything I would. I would have pushed aside my momentary pain and helped him bear his. I would have been a friend. I would have been his angel and I would have done whatever it took to spare him from what was to come.

The loud sound of their laughter as they come in breaks me out of my trance and I look away before he catches me again. The time for contemplation and regret is over. It's time to plaster a smile on my face and focus somewhere else. Our first day back has to be productive. The time for regrets is over and I'll have all night to think of a solution.

The cold slushie drips down my clothes and the stinging pain in my eyes is a familiar feeling. I lift my hands up to my face to wipe the corn syrup off my face before turning, pulling my bag behind me, and heading for the bathrooms beside the auditorium. I'm lucky I have a free period firs thing in the morning.

The faint sounds of music filter through the heavy doors of the auditorium. The melody is hauntingly beautiful and tragic all at once. I find myself feeling drawn towards it; it's a magnetic pull I just can't resist. I let myself inside carefully, making sure that I'm as quiet as possible. It would just seem wrong to disturb the moment.

As soon as my eyes adjust to the darkened room I see him. He's running his fingers along the strings of his guitar while singing lyrics I've never heard and my heart breaks at the sight. It's only in this room, long after the bell has rung and he can ensure that no one can see or hear him do I see the first semblance of him letting go. It's only when he's lost in the music that I can see him drop his guard and leave his defenses behind. It's progress, even if it only lasts for a little while.

My body is frozen in place and I cannot tear my eyes away from him. And it's only when the song has ended and my fingers brush across my cheek to wipe the tears that I'm brought back to reality. I've still got corn syrup dripping down my hair, my clothes are stained a ridiculously hideous reddish color, and the syrupy mess has had time to set in, so my face feels sticky to the touch. But, all of that pales in comparison to my biggest problem now.

The song is finished and I've got about a minute before he realizes that I've been watching him. So, I do the only thing I can do. I run. I quickly turn around and escape out the door as fast as I can and make a beeline for the bathroom. I can't ruin this for him. I can't let him know that I saw that performance. It wasn't meant to be heard by anyone.

I lock myself in the bathroom and get to work. I've got maybe twenty minutes before I have to be in class and I can't afford to be late. My hair is first, then my face, and finally my clothes. I quickly duck my head under the stream of cold water and begin washing my hair, the pink tinged water running down the drain reminding me of that first slushie. The one that broke us.

Our lives have been intertwined for as long as I can remember – from diapers till that last Friday morning before the first day of high school. From pre-school play dates to fairy weddings atop a tree house. From best friends forever to first kisses. He was and still is my everything. He was my first crush, my first young love, and the only one who's ever held my heart in every way. I've loved him for so long but I'm paralyzed by the thought that any chance we might have had went out the window the day his dad walked out.

That first blow came on a cold Friday morning when a father walked out on his family without looking back and without hesitation. Daniel Puckerman was the first to carve his name in Noah's heart and the scar is deep, painful, and not quite healed. The scar tissue that lingers follows a jagged line that forms the word Dad. The day Daniel Puckerman ran away was the day that Puck was born.

I didn't hear from him at all for that next week. I called and called and when he didn't answer I grew more and more angry and in my anger I struck back without even knowing it. I left a message that last Sunday night – a message full of angry words and complaints of having to spend the last week before high school with my dads. It was a message I'll always regret leaving and it was the beginning of my own carving in his heart. In hindsight, I realize I left that message in one of my theatrical moments; a moment where I was racked with severe anxiety and fear over what I considered a big change both in my life and in my feelings for Noah.

The next Monday morning I walked into McKinley High with stars in my eyes and a future all planned out. A future that came tumbling down the second that first slushie made contact with my face. In that second before it all came crashing down I caught his gaze and held it. The look of raw pain fresh in his eyes shook me to the core but I still didn't understand what was going on.

I listened to the raucous laughter bouncing off the walls and my heart sunk. My Noah was gone and in his place was a vile imitation. I didn't know what had made that happen. Was it the hurtful words I had spewed at him? I didn't have any answers so I made my way to the nearest bathroom determined to push all loving feelings towards Noah Puckerman aside. I didn't need him and he certainly didn't want me.

It wasn't until two weeks later, after countless unprovoked slushie attacks that I found out that his father had left. It never crossed my mind that that week of silence coincided with his departure. It never crossed my mind that maybe the slushies were his way of lashing out. His way of hurting me for that hurtful message. His way of hurting me because I had two dads and seemed to take them for granted when he had none. And it certainly never crossed my mind to apologize for that message. By that point Noah Puckerman was the bane of my existence and there was no going back.

I recognize the slushies now for what they really were. A way to cope with the void his father's departure left behind. A way to push his pain towards someone else and I am thankful that at least I was able to give him that. I am thankful that even though I never tried to reach out I was able to give him a reprieve from his pain no matter how miniscule.

I gaze at my reflection in the mirror, my handiwork complete. New clothes, new makeup, new hairstyle; It was like the slushie never happened. But my mind still keeps drifting back to that first one. How would things be different if I had just apologized or if I had even tried to reach out? What would have happened if I had truly been a friend?

I make my way to my locker my eyes searching for him. I'm always searching out for him. I just can't help myself. I feel like it's finally our time. Our time to finally find each other again. Our time to finally fix the things we have broken.

I turn the combination lock automatically, still searching for him out. My heart drops when I realize he is nowhere nearby and it's only when I pull my eyes back to my locker that the first stirrings of hope flutter wildly in my chest. His messy scrawl is staring back at me and I'm itching to take the paper and run, class be damned. I've never hated rules and responsibility more than I do at this moment. But, I know what I have to do. I grab the note and my books, close the locker door and make my way to class.

I only make it ten minutes before I'm pulling the note out of my binder and scouring it for hidden meanings.

_I saw you Ray._

It's all it says. That and the word Berry scrawled across the front are the only thing he seemed fitting to write. But the word Ray warms my heart. He hasn't forgotten. And neither have I. Maybe this time it will work. Maybe this time it really will be our time. And as his words wash over me I think back to that time it almost was.

Our ill fated relationship in sophomore year was never meant to last. It wasn't the right time. I was wrapped up in a world of illusion and fantasy and he was busy trying to atone for his actions. I stupidly thought that if I had someone who was Noah's complete opposite my heart would move on. I was hoping that it would be enough to focus on Finn and pretend that Noah was just some brutish bully who inflicted pain for no reason.

But the moment he thrust that grape slushie into my hand Finn was the last thing on my mind. For a few blissful days everything seemed to fall back into place. Noah was back and he was everything I had ever wanted. He chose us over football, he let his guard down enough to sing to me, he took a slushie for us, he apologized for the way he treated me, and he wasn't afraid to hold me in public. But even after all that I knew something was off. The longing stares at Quinn. The way he seemed to drift away sometimes. I knew I had to end it. I couldn't give myself to him if he wanted someone else. His parting words hurt more than I've ever let on. And sometimes I wonder if maybe I should have realized that those words meant he needed my friendship more than anything.

I also wonder if, when I walked away, I finished my carving. Is there a scar in the form of Rachel on his heart?

Getting the combination to his locker is surprisingly easy. It's still incredibly early and my car is the only one in the parking lot. I make way down the hall towards his locker, eager to show him just how much his note meant to me. My hands are shaking and the plain white box I'm holding is rattling from the force. I just hope the cookies don't break. His locker is close to mine so I'm hoping to catch a glimpse of him when he finds these. I wonder if they are still his favorite.

I finally get his locker open and gently place the box on top of everything else. I hope he recognizes my peace offering. I hope he doesn't turn me away. I hope he understands. I may know what the true weight behind my actions is but he doesn't. I recognize this gesture for what it is. It's me falling without having a guaranteed safety net to cushion the blow. It's me opening myself up to rejection once again. It's me hoping that we can find ourselves again. It's me hoping we can be Rachel&Noah again. I just hope that it doesn't come back to slap me in the face.

I close the door to his locker and make my way to the library. Suddenly the thought of being nearby when he finds them terrifies me and I don't know if I'm completely ready to face that fear.

It is only until lunchtime comes that I am able to make my way over to my locker. I've been dodging this hallway all morning but I really can't avoid it anymore. I quietly make my way over to my locker, my heart beating wildly in my chest. I open my locker door not really sure what I am expecting. I shouldn't have worried though. Nothing is out of place, there is no note, there is nothing. I don't know if it's a good thing or if this is his way of rejecting me.

I spend the rest of the day a walking zombie. My mind is going a mile a minute trying to decipher his lack of a response for the rest of the day. Every scenario flashes through my mind. Each one is worse than the other. But the worst ones rush by as I make my way to the choir room for glee practice. I walk in and take my usual seat. As usual, I am the first one here but that doesn't faze me anymore. It's only Noah that I care about now.

They filter in slowly, one by one, sometimes two by two. All of them happy and laughing as anxiety wracks my body. I weave my fingers together and glance up at the clock. It figures he would pick today to show up late. He shows up just on time, though, and I stare at him as he walks in. His expression is passive and I hate that I can't see what he's thinking. I catch his gaze and quickly turn away as a blush colors my cheeks. I'm not sure what I'm expecting from him but a public rejection and a hug both cross my mind. I get neither. Instead, he takes the seat next to mine and drapes his arm across the back of my chair. My breath hitches and I turn to look at him. His hazel eyes connect with mine and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. It's all I need.

When practice is over I linger behind hoping he does too. I listen as the others trickle out and I still wait. It's an excruciating thing, waiting for them to leave while keeping myself check. I don't look up, just in case he's not there when I look for him. It is only when I can't put it off any longer that I look up. And he's still there his hands shoved into his pockets and an unsteady look in his eyes. I want to jump into his arms but I don't. I want to say so many things but I don't. Instead I reach out to him and let him make the first move.

"Ray?" The word speaks volumes, at least I hope it does. But his expression is guarded. I take a moment to think back, to a time when things were simpler; a time when we both didn't have to tip toe around each other.

I take a step towards him, gauging his reaction as I move. He makes no move away from me so I continue forward until there is less than a foot of space between us. I look up at him, tears shining in my eyes, and the words are tumbling from my lips before I can stop them.

"I am so sorry Noe. For everything. I'm so sorry."

He pulls me into his arms and leans down to whisper in my ear, "I'm sorry too Ray."

"I missed you. Every night I missed you."

"I missed you too." His arms tighten around me as I bury my head in his chest. I know we have a lot of work ahead of us. But, at the same time, I can feel the cracks in my heart begin to heal. I only hope it's the same for him.

It's been a week since that day in the choir room. But we've been making progress and in the end it's the little things that count. Like the short text messages in the morning, even if they only say hi. Or the boxes of cookies and other baked goods I sneak into his locker. Or the nods he gives me when we pass each other in the hall. It's tangible progress.

The note that lands on my desk during third period, however, is the highlight of the week.

_Lunch?_

One word is all it takes. One word, one promise, one more step in the right direction. I turn my head towards him and nod and the accompanying smirk makes a blush rise upon my cheeks. I know I'll be on edge for the next two periods but it just doesn't matter. It's worth it.

I try not to get ahead of myself. I try to tell my heart to slow down. That even though spending our lunch time together is progress, it doesn't mean that he's ready to fall. And I don't know that I'm completely ready either. My heart has been toyed with just as much as his has been. The damage to our hearts has been done and at this point, we both bruise easier than others.

But, I can't help the floaty feelings that his note has awakened in me. I know I have to proceed slowly and carefully. Too many others before have already left ugly marks behind in their wake. I have to be gentle with my heart and not let myself get carried away.

It's right before lunch that the floaty feeling is replaced by something not entirely pleasant. Noah and Quinn are arguing heatedly in a semi hidden alcove. Noah's expression is stony and his jaw is set. Quinn is frazzled and gesturing wildly, her anger barely restrained.

I wonder what they are arguing about. Is it Beth? Or are there any lingering feelings that haven't been resolved? It's Quinn that finally throws her hands up in surrender and storms off her ponytail swishing violently behind her. Once she's out of sight Noah slumps into himself and my legs propel me towards him without even thinking. Crap! What will he think of the fact that I was eavesdropping on his conversation?

I lead him, wordlessly, towards the empty choir room and he follows without hesitation. I close the door behind us and walk us over to the piano bench. It's only after we've both sat down and my arms wrap around him that my next realization comes.

His skin is like a map of where his heart has been. And he can't hide the marks no matter how hard he tries. Every scar on his skin speaks to an even deeper scar scribbled along his heart. The last year had been a hard one for him, with Beth and Quinn and his unresolved issues. There is a scar on his forearm that's the result of a drunken binge after Quinn's Lima loser comment. There had been countless fights and throwing of kids into dumpsters. There had been countless binges and alcohol induced acts of stupidity. There had been sporadic drug use and other illegal activities that had landed him in jail. But only I saw all that for what it was. The scars from fights and the attitude, the drinking and the smoking and the drugs, it was all a defense.

He craved the escape a bottle of alcohol provided, the numbness that consumed him helped to dull the pain of every wound etched upon his heart. And the fights and external demeanor keep away anyone else who might hurt him further. He didn't want anyone getting too close because he didn't think he can handle another jagged scar. Because he knew that anyone he let close enough to reach him could hurt him or leave him and his heart held no more room for scars. It just couldn't take another cut.

Quinn and Beth left their own scars upon his heart. His heart ached for the little baby girl he never got to love. The little girl he never got to care for. The little girl he was forced to give away. Quinn left a deeper scar, though, one that I didn't fully understand. A scar that I was scared he hadn't yet dealt with. Was he still in love with Quinn?

After what feels like an eternity, he finally untangles himself from my grasp and straightens out in his seat. He turns to look at me before his hand brushes a stray lock of hair from my face. I know I am blushing but I just can't help myself. I want so badly to just believe that he's over Quinn, that while he may love her he's not in love with her. But I can't let myself hope, because I too know, that anyone who can touch me can hurt me just as easily.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I throw it out there, hesitantly. I promised myself that I would never turn my back on him again and I'll be damned if I do it now.

"Not really. But I get the feeling that I'm going to end up spilling my guts anyway."

"You know that no matter what you say, I'll be here. You know that Noe, right?"

"Yeah I know that Ray. Now come on, we gots stuff to talk about and shit."

He grabbed my hand and led me outside. I knew I wasn't going to be making it back to class anytime soon, but for the first time I really didn't care. I just hoped that when it all came out, my heart will be intact.

"She just wants to forget it all happened, Ray. Shelby offered her the opportunity for an open adoption and she turned her down. It's bad enough I don't even get to fucking raise my daughter but now I don't even get to know if she's doing okay. What kind of fucked up shit is that?" The words are tumbling out of his mouth and my heart breaks for him. I want so bad to ease his pain. To make things better for him.

"I'm sorry Noe. I wish there was something I could do."

"At the risk of sounding like a total pussy, you being here is enough Ray. It's just going to take a while to process and get used to it."

"You know, if you want, I can put you in touch with a support group."

"They have to support groups for guys in my situation."

"Oh Noe, they have support groups for everything. I just think it might help if you talked it out with someone."

"Ray, I don't know if you noticed but I'm kind of emotionally retarded and shit. And you want me to go and talk to someone."

"I'm just saying, it might help."

"How 'bout this. I'll pretend to consider talking to someone and just deal okay."

"How about I pretend that you did consider talking to someone and you just talk to me instead."

"Deal."

Four months later and things were really starting to look up for Noah and me. We both learned as we went, when things got to be too much we clung to each other instead. We learned to read each other and we learned the subtle nuances that let us know when it was time to talk and when it was time to be quiet. We were each other's rocks. When the social hierarchy tried to break me down, he was there. When memories of Beth haunted him, I was there. And as we grew together, we grew closer, and my feelings blossomed.

As more and more of Noah came back to me I fell further and further in love with him. The fantasy of Quinn and Finn had been left behind long ago by both of us and I was ready to let Noah know how I felt. I just hoped he was ready too.

I'm not sure how to broach the subject with him. But I know that if I never take this leap of faith I'll never know if he reciprocates my feelings. I'm fully aware of the progress we have made but the thought that we might have missed our chance still plagues me.

But if I don't try, I'll never know. Our standing lunch still stands and as I make my way towards the choir room I replay my strategy over and over again. It seems like we've been dancing around each other for years and my instincts tell me he feels the same way. The subtle touches and glances, the way his hands linger after hugs, or the way he looks at me sometimes, it all tells me that he just might be willing to fall with me.


End file.
